The Weapon
by EvalinaIvansilvis
Summary: When the stunning new English teacher, Mrs Angela Evans arrives, Bertrand takes an interest in her... they are strangely drawn to eachother, but why? This is my first fanfic, so don't judge.
1. Ugh Breathers

Eyes followed the car as it drove up in front of the school. Heads turned and even more people stared as the driver stepped out. She could only be 25- with flowing brown hair that had streaks of red and gold in it where the bright sunlight hit it. She removed her sunglasses with a flourish, throwing them carelessly behind into her car, shutting the door and sauntering forwards. She walked well, considering the killer heels she was wearing. She was, you could say, "dripping with swagger" as she practically danced into the school.

Strolling through the corridors, every single guy did a double take when they saw her. She was undeniably beautiful; flawless. Everything from her pale complexion to her blue eyes screamed beautiful and wealthy. She came to a halt in front of a door with a sign that read "Miss McCauley- Head teacher". Knocking, and hearing the "Come in", she opened the door and entered.

"Ah, Miss Evans. Come right through."

The speaker was a man; with dark shoulder length hair. He dressed unusually, with a dark cape that fell around his tall frame. He was hovering by a door that led out of the office. A flustered looking woman with big, kind eyes and rather large front teeth was sitting at a desk. They had obviously just been talking, and even more obvious was the fact she fancied him, he fancied her, and neither of them knew it. Resisting the urge to smirk, Miss Evans followed the strange looking man through the door

"Wow…very…um…Goth…it's nice…" she lied, as the man closed the door behind her and she took in the dark walls and cobwebs.

"Family traditions."

He invited her to sit down. He sat opposite her at the desk.

"So Miss Evans-"

"Mrs Evans"

"Mrs Evans. What makes you want to be a teacher at Garside?"

"It seems like a good school. No other particular reasons"

"And you're applying to be an English teacher…?" he asked, checking some paperwork

"Yes"

"Any particular reason for that?"

"I've always loved the subject. Such beautiful stories have come from it, other worlds you can escape to…"

"Hmm. Well, you seem able. You've caught me at a bad time- I haven't printed off the forms, so if you could come back some time tomorrow…?"

"Of course" Mrs Evans rose fluidly and gracefully. Shaking his hand, she left back through Miss McCauley's office.

"Ugh. Breathers." The Count muttered, whipping his hand off his cape.


	2. Typical

The sword clattered to the floor.

"Bertrand…?" Vlad eyed him carefully. He was completely rigid, with an expression of hope in his usually impassive eyes. And suddenly, he was gone. With a sigh, Vlad followed him.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Ingrid snarled, as Bertrand burst into her room- darting to the window. He drew back the curtain, peering gingerly out the glass to glimpse the flicker of brown hair disappear into the silver sports car.

The clouds shifted slightly, revealing the sun. Hissing in pain, he drew back, covering the window again.

"Right," Ingrid growled menacingly "Both of you. Out. Now."

"Training over, Vlad." Bertrand said to the boy, disappearing again.

"Awesome." Vlad muttered, going off to find Erin.

"Typical" Ingrid said softly to herself. "Trust the Chosen One to be in love with a breather."

**Hey, sorry this chapter is so short. Should I continue with this story? Please R&R**


	3. His Fault

_How can it be her? It's not her. She's gone. She's dead. Because of me._

Bertrand kicked the fallen sword aside in anger. It was his fault. Completely his fault. He just had to be _so god-damn noble_. Run off, just as he thought she had.

_They killed her. They killed her and it's my fault._

No. it wasn't her. Her scent, though… it had reminded him of her. So badly. _He missed her so much_.

With a sigh, he picked up the sword and set to work re-building the walls around his un-beating heart.


	4. She Was Alive

"Ugh, my head…" Vlad moaned.

"It's really simple. Hardly anyone likes the idea about the treaty. So the slayers are capturing under 16's. They can't be arrested by the rest of the slayers that do agree with you, and they aren't staking- so we can't take control either."

Vlad sighed. This was the worst council meeting yet. He was still at school- barely 18- yet he had the weight of the entire vampire world hanging on his shoulders. Hanging was a good word for it. He was losing his grip, on both his sanity and the treaty.

"We suggest…" Vincent began. Despite Vlad's age, most of the people in the Council were afraid to contradict the young Chosen One. Vincent was the bravest, and oldest, of them all- with sheet of silvery hair and a tall, spindly yet strong frame. "We suggest you change the treaty. Close the loopholes."

"Um… Well, I'll have to think about it." Vlad declared, dismissing them and leaving for home himself.

"Hey," Erin smiled when he came in. "Stressful day?" she watched his closed eyes as he slumped against the sofa.

"Mmm. Council nagging me to take action. More kidnappings."

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about it yet?"

"Because a slayer won't stake someone under 16. Even if they had killed a million people- they would just let them live."

"You can't stake an under 16 vampire." Bertrand said softly to himself. Erin jumped at the sound of his voice- having not noticed him being in the room.

"Yes. Well done, Bertrand." Vlad said slowly.

"They didn't kill her." He whispered, leaving the room at top speed.

He lay there, staring at the moon through the canopy of leaves above him. No. they wouldn't have killed her. She was still alive. But then- why hadn't she come back to him? When they let her go, why hadn't she come home? To him? She had loved him, hadn't she? Or had she? Did she hate him? For not coming to save her? Probably.

But that didn't matter.

She was alive.

**Don't forget to R&R :)**


	5. Exactly The Same

"Um. Dad- sorry for interrupting… but… um. We have a situation."

Count Dracula sighed, and followed his son out the room.

"One minute," he said to the woman he had been talking to. "I'll send someone in to look after you."

"I'm not a child." The woman muttered, watching the door close behind him. A few seconds later, another man walked in. he was undeniably good looking; with soft wavy black hair that fell across his forehead.

"Mrs Evans." He said, with a slight double take at the woman in front of him. Her again… He fought to keep the longing, surprise and guilt out of his voice.

"Mr…um…"

"Du Fortunessa.." he replied with a slight flourish in his tone.

"Du Fortunessa… is that French?"

"Mmm."

"Sounds sort of familiar…"

"You look familiar. Have I met you before?" No need to say he recognised her scent. That she reminded him of _her_. She was exactly the same. But older. Obviously. And her eyes…

"I'm not sure. Maybe not."

"Might I ask your husband's name?" If she was who he thought she was, he had a right to know.

"Harry." She said, slightly wary.

"Black hair, green eyes?"

"Yes… You know him?"

"We've met…" he murmured distractedly.

"Right." She said awkwardly.

Just then the Count walked in.

"That was the most disturbing thing I have ever seen." He said to Vlad as he came in.

"We have to do something about it."

"How about we record him, and then make him stop?" Ingrid suggested, walking in after him.

"You realise they were your clothes?" Erin asked.

"So? I'm burning them anyway."

"Oh, Bertrand. Thanks." The Count said, slightly grudgingly.

"Bertrand?" Mrs Evans asked.

"Ah, yes, Angela is that all you wanted?"

"Yes- thank you, Mr Count."

With a curious glance at Bertrand, Angela left.

"Training's cancelled, Vlad." Bertrand said, before leaving the room.

"Excellent." Vlad grinned at Erin, offering her his arm.

**Please R&R, I feel like I'm rushing into the story, without much description. What do you think?**


	6. Why?

Angela. Her name was Angela.

The moon was full and bright; illuminating the leaves as the light spilled through the forest. Bertrand sighed, closing his eyes slowly. This was way to big a coincidence. It must be her. But…

She was a breather. She had a heartbeat. It sounded strange – slightly off, but it was there. And she had walked straight through the sunlight without even flinching.

It had to be her though, though. Who else had a scent as intoxicating as that? Who else had hair that glowed like fire? Well, obviously he knew someone else with hair like that, but still…

The eyes. He knew her eyes. They were hazel. A rich shade with a thousand different colours in it. They weren't blue. Not that it really mattered, but he had loved her eyes.

Evans. Harry Evans. Yes, he knew him. And yes, he disapproved of him. He thought so highly of himself. He had gone to that training academy with him. Always mocking him. 'Nessie' he'd used to call him. A play on his surname, Du Fortunesa.

Hmm. She had recognised that name. Well, of course she had! If this was her, then yes. It should ring a bell.

Why hadn't she said anything? Was she waiting for him to make the first move? It had been years since they'd seen each other. Maybe he should say something first.

But she was a breather! How was that possible? If so, then why was she married to Evans? He was a vampire; he would have told her everything. But she already knew. Had she forgotten? Could that happen?

He growled suddenly in frustration. A bird in one of the trees above him took flight. He dragged himself up from the ground, brushing the dust from him. He walked in a dream-like fashion through the semi-darkness.

Now that he knew she was alive, it was impossible for him not to be thinking about her. He would give anything to be able to hold her in his arms one last time. He hated this. This confusion. This waiting. He was the sort of person who got what he wanted. It wasn't always given to him, but he knew how to persuade someone.

He wanted to be able to tell her everything. How much he missed her. How much he was sorry. To ask her how she'd been. All alone.

Something had happened. Something had made her forget who she was. Who he was. He had to help her. He needed answers.

And who better to get them from, than Harry Evans…


	7. Your Name

Bertrand drummed his fingers against the desk

_Stupid Miss McCauley making him cover a history lesson_

In actual fact, the Count had been the one who forced him, once he refused the head teachers request. _Like father like son_. Vlad happened to be in the class he was taking; and whilst everyone else was copying down notes, the young Grand High Vampire was passing notes to Erin. Whatever they were, they certainly weren't History related. Typical Vlad, thinking he knew so much he didn't have to pay attention. Then again, Bertrand had pretty much covered this particular topic with him before. The vampire version, of course.

On a normal day, he would have given Erin a detention. Not Vlad, though. He had business with the council. Today, however, Bertrand's mind was elsewhere, more specifically, back in his old home, with Angela, who was dancing, twirling, showing off in the sun where he couldn't reach her, her hair flying out all around her-

The sharp sound of the school bell ringing broke through his thoughts. Before he could set them anymore work, the students had left the room at top speed. He just sat where he was, burying his face in his hands.

It wasn't long before his thoughts were interrupted again - this time by a soft knock at the door. It opened, and in stepped Angela herself.

His unnecessary breath died in his throat at the sight of her.

"Hello." She smiled politely.

"Um..."

She laughed softly, obviously used to this reaction from most, if not all, men. Her hair was loose, as it always was. She had used to use it as a curtain to hide behind; a thin viel of flowing brown hair between her and the rest of the world.

"Hi." Bertrand finally managed, trying to ignore the way the tips of her hair were glowing like dieing embers in the electric light.

"I, err, wanted to ask you something…"

"What about?" he asked, swallowing guiltily.

"Your name."

He just stared at her, this time with bewilderment.

"You see, I have a son- called Darwin. When my husband and I were thinking up names, he insisted the middle name be Bertrand. I asked him why, but he just told me to trust him, and that one day I would understand. And, well, it isn't a very common name. So, I was thinking, maybe, it has something to do with you?

He sat there for a while, trying to digest this. Her husband had given their son his name. her husband, who hated him. Why would he do that?

"Well, Evan- your husband and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye…"

"But you knew him?" she pressed

"Yes."

"Would you have any particular connection to him? Or our son? Or me?

Such probing questions… he taught her well. _Look for every loophole_, he'd always say. Evidently she hadn't forgotten that.

"Not that I can think of." He lied. _How can you not remember me?_ He cried in his thoughts. _I'm your-_

"Hmm. Well, OK. If you ever remember anything, let me know."

"And you." He said, too quietly for her to hear.

Then she left, before he could say or do anything else.

_This is torture... she really doesn't know who I am._ It had gone on long enough. Tonight, he would talk to Evans. Tonight, he would find out the truth.


	8. Familiar and Comforting

_One foot in front of the other._

The increasing feeling of dread, the sickening feeling threatening to overwhelm him. Her husband. The one she had pledged the rest of her eternity to. _Angela Evans_. As much as it pained him to think, the name had a nice ring to it. _So long as she's happy._

The metal of the gate was cold under his fingers. It was such an ordinary house; with a few flowers planted in the garden, and a hedge sprinkled with honeysuckle. This was exactly Angela. The pictures she would draw, of her perfect home. Exact match.

_Looks like someone's dreams came true._

And then suddenly he found himself pressing the doorbell, overcome with longing to find out the truth, for her to remember him. He didn't care if she hated him, so long as she remembered.

The door opened, and there was Harry Evans.

"I thought you'd be here sooner than this."

His voice was flavoured with dislike. Bertrand's tongue felt heavy with all the words he longed to retort, but he swallowed them back. It seemed as though Evans was his last hope- so to insult him would not be a step in the right direction.

"I'm not the sort of person who rushes in to things. Surely you know that."

"I guess I do."

Harry Evans appraised him for a second. He was stupidly good looking with his cocky grin and the way he leaned against the frame. The light glinted off his midnight hair, and the twinkle in his piercing green eyes showed he was greatly enjoying stringing Bertrand along.

Finally, he stepped aside, granting the much older vampire permission to talk to him. Bertrand stepped tentatively into the house, as though he were walking into the jaws of some kind of monster that would devour him whole.

The room he followed Evans into really did seem to cause him pain. It was exactly like his old home, the one he had shared with-

"Angela chose the designs. That felt familiar to her. Familiar and comforting." Harry said. These words were obviously meant to inflict pain as well. And they did; each and every word felt like a battering ram against the protective door around his heart.

So perhaps it was guilt that made Harry lead Bertrand into the next room, it was the kitchen, and he sat himself at the counter, gesturing for Bertrand to do the same.

"So To Business."


	9. It Had to Be That Child

"Um, how about you start with telling me all you know?" he suggested, suddenly wishing he were anywhere but here. Talking to anyone but _Harry Evans_.

"She was adopted when she was eleven." Harry murmured, almost to himself. "By Mr and Mrs Smith. Breathers, of course… she was found by Social Services not far from a forest. She had no memory of her past." He paused here, gauging the older vampire reaction.

"She didn't know she was a vampire?" Bertrand asked slowly.

"No. why would she? She doesn't burn in the sun, she has a heartbeat… and a reflection."

"How is that possible?"

"She has something in her veins- to stop sunlight affecting her. The same thing gives her a reflection."

"And the heartbeat?"

"Did it sound sort of not right to you?"

"Yeah…"

"That's because she has a metal heart."

Bertrand stared at him. "How? And why?" he demanded, dreading the answer.

"I'd imagine they replaced her real heart with a fake one- one that would always beat, even long after her 16th birthday. How… well… long story short… she has a scar running down her chest." Harry said cautiously; running a finger over his own chest to show him

"Right." He said softly, leaning back in the chair. They cut her open and took out her heart. That was sick. Sure, he'd been around a bit, but doing something like _that_ to an innocent child?

And it had to be that child.

It had to be his child.

**I hope that's a good enough cliff-hanger. I won't be updating for a while, as I'm going on holiday.**

**Thank You all so much for your reviews, they can really boost a person's confidence.**

**xxx**


	10. The Lord of Justice

Bertrand shook his head slightly, trying not to dwell on how her screams would have sounded.

"Why?" he managed finally.

"I don't know. If I did, would I be talking to you?"

Harry faltered at the sight of Bertrand's eyes. Preferring to live, he tried to backtrack:

"Sorry. That's harsh. You were a good father to her."

Bertrand scoffed. He wasn't stupid. "Minus the fact I let the slayers kidnap and mutilate her, I suppose I wasn't half bad."

"It wasn't your fault. They would have done it anyway."

"They did it because I had information on the Chosen One that they wanted. When I didn't come to them in a week, they did… what they did to her."

"First of all- it's not your fault you didn't go after her. You thought she'd run off, like most vampire's do at that age. Secondly, you left the house that held her memories, and didn't get the letter that was sent to you till years later. Thirdly, they probably would have done that to her anyway, with information on the Chosen One and the Lord of Justice alongside it."

The Lord of Justice… it had been a long time since he'd been called that. He didn't device the name for himself, the vampire world did:

_A silent figure roaming the land _

_A blood red cape a stake in hand_

_Just one false claim of power _

_His evil glower_

_The last thing you'll see_

_Eyes holding a mystery _

_He walks alone_

_He listens to none_

_Son of a prince_

_A Lord of Justice_

"Either way, I should have helped her." He argued, dragging his thoughts away from his old life.

"You could make it up to her by helping her now." Harry suggested, abandoning subtlety.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

**Sorry this has taken so long to update, but I've had loads of extra exams and I went on an amazing holiday with my boyfriend and his family and I completely forgot the ideas I had.**

**Don't forget to review xxx**


	11. From the Begining

Their conversation was interrupted by a small cry from one of the room upstairs.

Harry looked at Bertrand with that cocky, knowing glance again.

"Come with me." He smirked.

A second later they were in a room- a child's nursery, by the looks of the brightly coloured toys strewn across the floor. The crib was also a give-away, holding a child of about 8 months, who was stirring feebly.

"Meet your grandson." Harry mocked, taking the baby from the crib and rubbing his back soothingly.

Bertrand shot him a scathing look, before turning his attention back to the child. He had a few tufts of his father's black hair, but the eyes were hazel.

"Angela's eyes…" Bertrand murmured. The name tasted strange on his tongue.

"Also her mother's eyes."

Bertrand made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

"Let me get this straight." He said angrily "You want me to go off who knows where to try and get her memory back. It may not even be possible, and you're trying to convince me to do this by stating that Angela's _son_ has Armeneta's eyes?"  
"OK- so that's a bit pathetic. But what would Armeneta want you to do?"

"She never wanted anything to do with her."

"Neither did you."

"I- that's different."

"In what way?"

Bertrand could think of no answer to that.

"Exactly." He smiled triumphantly.

"Just because I didn't want her then, doesn't mean I don't want her now" he hissed, slightly confused by the direction his argument was taking.

"Then help her."

Bertrand avoided his probing gaze.

"Ahh.." Harry realised finally "You don't want help_ me_."

"Well, why should I help you?" Bertrand snarled.

"I married her for a reason." He placed his son carefully back in his crib "I swore I would help her. And I tried. I honestly tried. But I came to nothing but dead ends. You're her last hope."

Bertrand took a step away from him, hating the fact he'd said '_her_ last hope' instead of '_his_ last hope.'

"Do you know where she is now?" harry asked, trying a new tactic. When Bertrand didn't respond, he went on "By the lake. She goes there when the nightmares are bad and I can't help her. She dreams of darkness filled with agony. She wakes up screaming. I can't take it. Pretty soon, she won't be able to take it anymore either."

Once again they were interrupted, this time by a key turning in the front door. Harry darted to the window; throwing it open and gesturing for Bertrand to exit through it. He was outside in an instant, but he did not leave. He clung to the side of the house, peering through the glass. A few seconds later, Angela walked into the room.

There it was again. That rush of longing and guilt at the sight of her.

His daughter. His child, his only child. Her face was composed into a small smile for her husband, but she was dead behind the eyes that were the wrong colour. The sight of her face, in that one moment, would haunt him forever.

She stepped into Harry's arms, burring her head in his chest. He looked over her shoulder to meet Bertrand's gaze.

'Help her.' His eyes said 'Please.'

Bertrand nodded once, before dropping down and walking away from the house. It wasn't that surprising, really. He'd known from the beginning he would do anything for his daughter, despite the fact it meant teaming up with the second most devious vampire on the planet.

He himself was, of course, at the number one spot.


	12. Vampiric Actions

_"I thought you'd be here sooner than this…"_

_"Her mother's eyes…"_

_"You're her last hope…"_

Bertrand shifted through the junk in the cupboard situated at the back of the old English class. He was looking for the last stake he owned- Vlad having destroyed the rest when he'd tried to take the power from the Book. It was the best hiding place he could think of… he just hoped no breather had found and disposed of it. He couldn't remember whose classroom this was. He didn't really care either. His mind was elsewhere.

The babble of the outside school was an annoying- distracting. He needed to plan what he should do- he needed to work out how to help… her.

"Where is it?" he muttered angrily to himself. He wanted to leave tonight- he wanted to be ready. He may not even need the stake- but better safe than sorry.

His fingers finally closed around the wooded handle of one of the sharpest stakes he'd ever held. At the same moment, the door opened.

Bertrand whipped round, standing and holding the weapon aloft in the same second. Then he remembered who taught in this room.

Angela stared at him, before her eyes rolled backwards and she fainted.

He caught her before he was halfway to the floor. He lifted her into his arms, darting to his room.

He laid her on the sofa carefully. He stroked her thick hair back, watching her anxiously. He had no idea what had just happened. He tried to think logically: he may have just startled her, moving so fast… but he thought she was made of stronger stuff than that, if Evans had been telling the truth about her nightmares.

He had no other ideas. He sighed at the thought of asking _his son-in-law_ for more help. He didn't really have any other choice though, so he shut his eyes and concentrated. A few minutes later, there was a squeaking outside his window.

"Pity it's raining." He said under his breath as he let the bat in. "All it takes is one shaft of sunlight, for one second…"

"Ah, but that would Angela do then?" Harry smiled, turning to his unconscious wife. "What happened?"

"Again, if I knew, would I be talking to you?"

"Excellent point, Nessie. Allow me to rephrase; what did you do?"

"I think I moved a bit too fast…"

"Ah, right. You know when breathers have a mind wipe on them? And when they see a vampiric action, they collapse?"

"That's what happened?"

"Pretty much."

There was silence for a few moments.

"I'll wait till she wakes before I leave, if that's OK." Harry asked, trying and failing to keep his tone polite.

"If you must." Bertrand all but growled.

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon."

"Where will you go first?"

"I don't know, Evans." He said through gritted teeth. "I haven't quite got that far yet."

"I think you should look for the old slayers Headquarters."

"And where might that be, Mr I-know-everything?"

"If I knew, would I be-"

"ENOUGH!"

Vlad was in the now open doorway. It was only then Bertrand realised he was standing with his nose inches away from Harry's.

"What is going on?" Vlad demanded.

Harry exchanged a nervous look with Bertrand.

"Umm…"

**Don't forget to review xxx**


	13. Sorry Excuse for a Vampire

"Come on, Erin!" Vlad called.

"Do you really have to bring her?"

"Yes." Vlad said firmly. Bertrand sighed. "I can't trust Dad to leave her alone. I have to protect her." He darted off to hurry his girlfriend along.

"Typical." Bertrand muttered.

It was bad enough that he'd had to tell his protégé everything about Angela, bad enough Harry had managed to add information that put him in the worst light possible, but now, on top of everything, Vlad and Erin were accompanying him on his journey to wherever it was he was supposed to be going.

Vlad's excuse was that he might find information on the missing under 16's. Bertrand might have been able to cope with Vlad's company- but not Erin. Though he held nothing against the ex-slayer anymore, she would slow them down considerably. It was also difficult to be in the same room as the young couple; they were forever glued to each other.

"What's going on?" Ingrid asked from behind him.

"Nothing." Bertrand said hurriedly.

"Yeah, right. I heard Vlad- you're going somewhere."

Bertrand sighed again- this time in defeat. "Yes."

"And you didn't think to invite me?" she asked, hands on hips.

"This isn't a road trip."

"I know. Do you honestly think I didn't hear the argument? Or that I didn't eavesdrop on your conversation with Vlad?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do you want to come anyway?"

She shrugged "I've got nothing better to do."

He regarded her sceptically.

"I could be useful. You know I could be useful." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Stop trying to seduce me so I can think."

She took a step back and waited.

He turned away from her. She could be useful-it was true… but did he particularly want this viper? This sleek, sexy vampiress that was exactly what he had ever wanted in a woman?

He shook himself mentally. 'Crazy idea' he told himself. 'She's not even close to a manipulative, crafty- Stop right there.'

"Ok, you can come- but hurry up and pack. I'm leaving in ten minutes; with or without you and Vlad"

With a triumphant smile, she swept from his view.

"Bertrand De Fortunessa you are a stupid, crazy, pathetic, sorry excuse for a vampire." He growled softly.

**Sorry I haven't been updating for a while, I've had a pretty busy Christmas.**

**Please Review :)**


	14. Armeneta

"So," Vlad asked "Where to next?"

Vlad, Erin, Ingrid and Bertrand were standing outside Garside Grange. They were looking at Bertrand, who was staring into the darkness with a lost expression. He had been avoiding that question so far, but now the realisation hit that he had no idea where to start.

"I don't know" he said softly.

"Well, I do." Ingrid said. "Where was She found?"

Bertrand shook his head "A forest somewhere. Evans didn't say which; I don't think he knew."

"So, we'll search every forest in the UK." Vlad said, holding Erin tight in his arms before taking off into the night sky.

"Right." Bertrand said absently. He shook himself mentally. "Right." He said more firmly.

"After you." Ingrid said with a smirk.

They landed in the forest of Dean. The Sun was about to rise, so Erin busied herself with putting up the tent. Vlad stayed behind to help her, but Bertrand wandered through the trees. It was a long time since he had been here. About 150 years.

"Who was Her mother?"

Bertrand started, having not realised Ingrid had followed him. He turned to face her. She was watching him with concern, of all things, in her eyes. Ingrid Dracula was a complicated person. She acted as though she was heartless, but she somehow seemed to know not to say Angela's name. Vlad used it constantly; without seeing the pain it caused his tutor, but Ingrid spared his feelings. Whether it was deliberate or not.

"Her name was Armeneta. Or is Armeneta." He said without thinking. He always seemed to let down his guard around her.

"Not _the _Armeneta? Armeneta _Westenra_? Mum's sister?"

"Yeah."

"So that makes your _daughter_ my _cousin!"_ she shook her head, dazed.

Again with not saying her name.

"I suppose it does, yeah."

She paused, before asking: "How did you meet her?"

He sighed, giving up. "We were both tracking the same coven of vampires. They knew a prophecy about the Chosen One that was useful to both our efforts; mine to find and assist, Armeneta's to destroy."

"Why did she want to destroy the Chosen One?"

"The same reason some other vampires did- they didn't want change. Some liked the way we lived in the shadows- it made life so much more fun."

"And the Chosen One turned out to be her nephew. Ha."

They started walking again.

"Anyway- carry on."

"The coven rested here for a while-"

"_Here?_ In this forest?"

"Yes. I lay in the branches, waiting. I heard a rustling in the tree to my right, and all of a sudden Armeneta jumped out at me. She had me pinned to the forest floor, and was about to stake me, but I managed to convince her we should team up. For protection. She agreed.

"But after a century or so, it turned into more than a companionship." he looked away from Ingrid "I loved her, and I knew she loved me. It lasted 35 years, and then she left. I don't know why. I've never known."

"Mum said she was staked 150 years ago. But really she just ran off with you?"

"Obviously so. I don't know what happened to her. Either way, she turned up 8 months later and dumped a 2 hour old A-Angela in my arms. Haven't seen or heard from her since."

Ingrid was silent for a while.

"Just like her sister, then." She finally said bitterly. "Never wanted her kids."

"Most vampires don't care for their children unless they're the heir."

"You care for Her."

He didn't answer.

**Review, please :)**


	15. Easier Said Than Done

Bertrand and Ingrid wandered back to the tent. Erin must have put it up, Bertrand thought; remembering the time they went camping to find a few rouge vampires. It had taken hours for Vlad to work out the instructions.

A small sound from inside made Ingrid stop dead. Bertrand shot her a quizzical look.

"What time is it?" she asked in a whisper.

Bertrand glanced at the nearly visible sun "5:30?" he suggested, keeping his voice low.

Ingrid sighed. "It's Vlad and Erin's 'couple hour'. Trust me. Don't go in."

Bertrand blinked. "But the sun's nearly up."

"So pick a tree." Ingrid muttered, like it was an obvious thing. He supposed it was.

He watched her move back into the close packed trees. One second she was on the ground, the next she was 50feet above him in a towering oak. He couldn't help but notice the grace and power in the leap that was a blur. He smirked in spite of himself and leapt after her.

She was perched in a deliberately sexy way on the branch. He tried to ignore it, but positioned himself in a similar way against the trunk of the oak. He wondered how he could be thinking of such things; given the fact he was searching for news on his daughter.

His daughter.

It amazed him how little he'd thought of her since he'd lost her. He'd tried to forget her. He hated himself for it. But if he could make it up to her by saving her from whatever soulless place she was trapped in, then he should give it his undivided attention. With a sigh, he straightened out of his casual slouch and turned away from Ingrid. She would have to wait till Angela was safe.

Ingrid, noticing his change in position, swung her legs over the branch, turning away from him. The sun spilled over the horizon, spilling through the leaves and brushing her right arm. She hissed in pain and found herself moving closer to Bertrand. She looked up at him anxiously, and found herself locked in his gaze.

_This was gonna be harder than it looked._

**Don't worry; I haven't given up on this. If anyone still cares. How 'bout you let me know by reviewing? Please?**

**Xx Ivy xX**


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